The Pale Dance
The train hissed into Oakhaven as the first frost of November settled on the tracks, a white breath that seemed to linger too long in the air. Arthur Vane stepped onto the platform, his suitcase heavy in his hand, and felt the weight of the city press against his chest. He was thirty years old, a junior clerk for the City Sanitation Board, and he had come here to save his career. Three weeks...
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